


The Exalted

by casuistor



Category: Death Note
Genre: Alternate Universe, Asexual Character, Canon Rewrite/Canon Divergence, Character tags to be added as characters are introduced, Emi (Death Note), M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 14:24:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7175537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casuistor/pseuds/casuistor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Light and Teru are top students in their final year at Daikoku Private Academy. They strike up an unlikely friendship and an even more unlikely relationship that neither of them think will last a month. Perhaps that would have been true in a world where death notes didn't exist and Light never becomes Kira, but they're not living in that world and everything they thought they knew is turned inside out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. But what would you know?

“Oi, Light – we’re going home now, are you coming or not?” 

Light half turns, looking over his shoulder to grin lopsidedly.

“No, I’ll be walking Emi home today when the student council meeting is over. You and Suzuhara go ahead.”

Yamamoto’s eyebrow jerks upwards incredulously. “Ditching us for your girlfriend, huh?” He teases with a laugh. “Well I suppose I can forgive you this time, but you gotta share the details with us later!. See ya!”

Yamamoto misses Light’s reciprocal raised eyebrow as he walks off to find their classmate. The question _‘details about what?’_ is left unasked and is quickly forgotten as Yamamoto steps into a sea of crisply ironed beige blazers, khaki trousers, freshly pressed sailor collars and primly pleated knee length skirts worn by - what their principal had platitudinously called - “the bright faces of Japan’s shining future” and disappears. Light lets out a quiet sigh that is easily lost in the din of excited students eager to rush home. 

Back in junior high, Light and Yamamoto struck up a friendship when the two of them became far too invested in investigating a series of collectible trading card thefts in their classroom. Beginning with discussions about organizing patrols, their wild imaginations led them to serious chatter about how to set up a trap for the class thief. Naturally Suzuhara, who’d been the owner of the trading cards, had been roped into becoming their very enthusiastic blueprint designer and co-conspirator. While the three of them had never needed to implement any of their less orthodox whimsies in the end, the three friends hadn’t stopped talking since. 

Each play different roles in their trio: Suzuhara, the artistically inclined one whose classnotes are notoriously littered with doodles inspired by Shonen Jump, Yamamoto, the self-appointed manly one of the group, and Light, who through an unspoken consensus, takes up the epicenter where he effortlessly outshines the rest. 

Every day has a tendency of repeating itself, with only slight variations in names, faces and actions, and routines are toxic to a bored mind left to its own devices. As a young boy Light had often repeated his mother’s advice that it would only be a matter of time before finally being able to do some real good for the world just like his father, but now that advice seems just as meaningless as the principal’s flowered speech at the beginning of the school term. As much as he respects his father’s line of work, it’s clear present day policy, from the NPA to the courts, is insufficient. No - to do real good in the world and to make a real difference, he’d have to surpass his father and reach for the stars. Or put less favorably, dive headfirst into the sewer water of legislative politics. And even then, what good are laws when it’s the lawless who won’t abide by them?

But until such happy times when he would have to confront these questions on a daily basis, he is merely Yagami Light, a model student who comes first in every national ranking system, has excellent prospects and a girlfriend in Hashimoto Emi. With a father who sits in the House of Representatives of the National Diet and a mother who lectures at a minor university in Tokyo, she had wound up being _sufficiently_ interesting, _sufficiently_ sensible and _sufficiently_ popular to serve as a deterrent to all would-be suitors in the battlefield for Light’s affection. 

Within minutes, the school corridors thin out, and the steady stream of students flocking out of the gates sputters and runs dry. Light, who has the questionable luxury of dawdling to pass the time, slowly makes his way down the stairs and across the schoolyard to sit at the bench closest to the gate. There, he lets the straps of his grey duffel bag slide down his left arm, and rolls the tension out of his shoulder. 

In theory, he could be working on a homicide case that the NPA, on his father’s recommendation, had asked for assistance on, but pouring over confidential documents in public seemed, if not unwise, redundant; he’s read those documents so often he could almost recite them verbatim. 

That leaves Light with the unappealing option of studying for an upcoming social studies exam for the next - he checks his watch - fifteen minutes that he will inevitably overstudy for and leave the classroom feeling deeply unsatisfied with the ease of the questions. _Just once_ , he thinks, heavy with apathy. _Just once I want to feel like there’s a point._

Sighing yet again, Light settles for leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. 

_Mentally reviewing the evidence it is, then. On the Nakamiyo case, the police have questioned the victim’s husband and found that his alibi checks out. But what the police are treating as two separate homicide cases ought to be merged together. What they’re missing is the fact that Magarano case from last month has some similarities to the Nakamiyo case. The victim’s husbands both took out life insurance policies for their spouses months ago within weeks of each other. Both Magaano and Nakamiyo have reliable alibis, but that just suggests a third party may have been involved…._

Quiet movement from across the school yard catches Light’s attention, and he squints at the scrawny boy whose head is bent downwards, shoulders rounded and eyes locked intently on the page of an open book in his hands. He walks with a curious straight backed defiance that’s counterbalanced to the furtiveness of his body language, like a water strider whose awareness of the physics of surface tension has both emboldened it and given it a new fear of drowning. 

“You’re leaving late today, Mikami-kun,” Light says pleasantly from his seat when the boy is close enough to hear. 

Mikami Teru stops abruptly. The look of a cornered animal momentarily flashes in his eyes and vanishes behind a wall of faintly hostile civility. He felt someone observing him as he walked and had hoped that walking a little faster would make them stop. Near sighted as he is, the only distinguishing feature he’d been able to make out in his peripheral vision from a distance away was a glimpse of auburn hair that doesn’t adhere to the school policy of forbidding the use of hair dye, and that had already been cause of uncertainty. Despite the fact that their names are actually frequently seen together on the large boards on which exam scores are posted as first and second, they’ve never had any reasons to talk. 

Hard work and top scores on his high school entrance exams had allowed him to apply to a school in a much nicer district of Tokyo than the one he’d been in previous years, but as if he bore some invisible stigma or emanated a repelling aura, he’d been unable to assimilate amongst classmates who smiled too easily and approached life with an alien kind of luxury. It had been easier to keep his head down and mouth shut when his opinions weren’t necessary, and so Mikami Teru became more ghost than a living, breathing member of the student body. 

It comes as a surprise that’s more bad than good that Yagami Light has even bothered committing his name to memory. Light, of course, requires no introduction. Naruhito may be the crown prince, but there’s no question of who the only prince recognized at Daikoku Private Academy is.

“Yes,” Teru replies, throat going dry. There’s nothing else to say and his eyes only briefly look away from the open textbook in his hands. An awkward pause would have ensued had both parties involved been equally inept at conversation.  
“  
“That’s the social studies book, isn’t it?” Light asks and doesn’t wait for an answer. 

“If you’re already studying for that exam, I’d better start myself.” He grins, his laid-back cadence like trickling water. “I can’t be beaten by my rival in homeroom 3-C.” By all accounts, it’s utterly meaningless. The day Light scores less than perfect on an exam is the day that the sun turns into a black hole and vaporizes them all. But nobody is entirely truthful in polite conversation. 

One by one a battalion with incredulity serving as infantry and mistrust as the cavalry builds in Teru’s thoughts. As it is the concept of rivals belongs to children on playgrounds and the notion that Light would consider _him_ a ‘rival’ is bizarre and misplaced. If Teru were to have anyone to consider a rival, it surely would not be an honors student. A prolonged pause follows before he finally clears his throat. 

“This is not a competition, Yagami-san.” 

Satisfied that this should effectively put an end to further uncomfortable conversation, Teru prepares a platitude of farewell. As it would turn out, however, Yagami Light is not so easily dissuaded. Far from putting a significant dent in the other boy’s mood, it seems to bolster it. 

The social smile on Light’s lips falters, then etches itself even deeper in his features as he bursts into incredulous laughter over Mikami’s haughty pretension of self-importance. 

There’s a difference between friendly and malicious laughter of course, but the ability to make the distinction is overshadowed by an instant knot in Teru’s stomach. He tightens his now clammy hands around his book. He can’t bear being laughed at, even with years of safe distance between him and that horrible year when everyone was laughing at him. _Why did you have to talk to me? What do you want from me?_ The questions buzz in his mind like a hornet nest, as hated memories rattle their vacuum sealed container, and remind him painfully that he’s not nearly as impervious as he needs to be. 

But what would Light know about these split second struggles? 

The laughter ends quickly, but the spirit behind it does not. _You’re not seriously worth being called competition, Mikami. You’re not that impressive, you know. And why are you so nervous anyway?_

“Of course it’s not really a competition, Mikami-kun,” Light continues in what appears to be registering as a distressingly blithe tone to the tense boy. 

“This is a school after all, and it’s meant to be a cooperative learning environment.” 

Light raises an eyebrow and as if to show a small amount of mercy, he adopts a less whimsical tone.

“....Which is just a long winded way of saying that it’s odd that as the top two students here, we’ve never talked before. I’d like to rectify that.”

The incredulity doesn’t fade from Teru’s face the way it’s supposed to. People aren’t as complicated as they believe themselves to be and Light has figured it all out. A joke here, a show of sincerity there, said with all the right words and the right smiles and people are drawn in like they’ve been magnetized and orbit around him like satellites to a star. Evidently, Mikami has not read the textbook on human interaction and against all odds, the blip in the script sparks the tiny privilege of genuine and rare curiosity. 

A pause stretches on artificially and speech bubbles filled with nothing but ellipses seem to crowd around Teru’s head. Light waits patiently, his amusement now concealed more carefully. 

With the spotlight swung back on Teru, he fumbles desperately trying not to think about how deeply unfamiliar the experience of an extended conversation with a classmate has managed to become in the last few years. It’s the vague suggestion of a second conversation that’s the most bewildering and therefore most deserving of his doubt. If nothing else, Teru is certain this can’t have been all that enjoyable of a talk. 

“…Yes, I suppose that is unusual,” Teru guardedly concedes. _If you ignore all the reasons why it’s not._ But as far as people worth associating with goes, Light would be high on that hypothetical list. It’s clear that Light is a hard worker who, like Teru himself, must prioritize academics over all other frivolousness that their peers might engage in, but the idea that he could have anything in common with a person as popular as Light when he’s always been so disliked seems as remote as the Sahara. 

Perhaps it’s unfair to look for an ulterior and unkind motive driving this invitation, but in the absence of one Teru is left feeling more uneasy than not. Unsure of what else to do, he hesitantly closes the book in his hands to be polite and tries not to regret the implicit message the simple gesture sends.

The concession is small and to call it a success would be an exaggeration, but it’s with veiled satisfaction that Light says, “We should compare notes some time.”

The words are spoken with the kind of laxity that hasn’t been extended to Teru since elementary school before talking to him effectively meant social suicide. Teru can’t help fixing Light with a wide eyed stare usually reserved for national catastrophes before finally composing himself enough to make a noncommittal noise to delay a proper answer. 

The reasons why Mikami doesn’t have any friends seem to be hurling themselves into one another. Trying to maneuver Teru into a more scripted set of responses is like entering numbers into an faulty equation that always yields results that are two standard deviations off. It’s a deplorable state of affairs when managing to force an “Mm” out of Teru is beginning to feel like a victory after all. 

“So then-” Light persists, but is interrupted. 

“Hey!” A female voice shouts from a distance, and both Light and Teru turn their heads to look. Emi, the class representative of homeroom 3-A, approaches the pair, long dark hair catching the sunlight as she walks. 

As one of the most attractive girls in school, it came as little surprise that Yamamoto wasn’t complaining in the slightest when Emi, along with her close friend Yuri, had decided to befriend their fellow 3-A classmate. The grumping only began when it became apparent that Yamamoto was really a gateway to befriending Light. Privately, Light hadn’t found this particularly surprising, but knew better than to state the obvious and merely expressed the appropriate condolences instead. 

Being from a family deeply invested in politics, she’d been able to hold her weight in more serious conversations with Light fairly well, but truthfully she found the world of politics divisive and suffocating. Her eyes were set on taking the taking the literary world by storm instead -- an ambition that earned words of encouragement from Light, but many more words of unspoken apathy. Of course she’d teased him then, well aware that Light has more interest in discussing the news and criminal law than in discussing the finer points of Mishima Yukio’s works - albeit a little sadly.

It was Emi who, with a pounding heart and uncharacteristic nervousness flooding her veins, asked Light out on a coffee date towards the latter half of their second year in high school, and to her delight he’d agreed with laughably anticlimactic “sure.” 

The transition from casual dates to becoming boyfriend and girlfriend is an awkward period of unasked questions and uncertain emotions, but by now Emi is confident that they are definitely together and that they’ve been together for the last three months or so. Light, after all, always makes sure to say goodbye to her before walking home with Yamamoto and Suzuhara, while she goes her way with Yuri. 

But as it turns out the real challenge of dating Light isn't _getting_ there in the first place, but in actually _being_ Light’s girlfriend. The envious glances and the ever-difficult problem of that mischievous smile of Light’s are just the tip of the iceberg. The more demoralizing issue is the one that largely exists inside Emi’s own head. Despite being an excellent student herself, Light has a way of making her feel awkwardly _average_. It’s nothing Light says or does - how could it be when he’s always such a perfect gentleman to her? - but all the same, Emi finds herself hesitating to say anything that could possibly be construed as stupidity. 

Yuri has laughed at Emi for this increased self consciousness, nudging her friend with the assurance that Light wouldn’t be dating her if he didn’t really like her, which Emi tries to keep in mind more often, but more often than not _‘...yes, but’_ has to be beaten back and tamed with logic first. Some days that’s easier and Emi can talk to her boyfriend at length, laughing and smiling, while on other days all Light has to do is raise an eyebrow and in her mortification she is forced to say _‘never mind!’_ and hurriedly changes the subject. 

_I’ll get over this, I know it._ Emi adjusts her navy blue tote bag, mentally taking a deep breath. 

As Emi beams at Light, he reluctantly allows his attention to be drawn away from what was beginning to be a potentially interesting game with the least visible student at school and puts on a smile of his own. A newfound and likely transient gratitude for Hashimoto Emi’s existence settles in Teru’s thoughts and he quickly re-opens the textbook. 

It comes as no small relief to be reminded that Yagami Light is indeed not that similar to himself. Dating fits on the list of Mikami’s priorities the same way a television fits into the summer residence of Tokugawa Ieyasu. 

“Thanks for waiting for me, Light! I hope you weren’t too bored?” Emi asks, watching Light rise from the bench. 

“It wasn't bad at all. I had a good talk with Mikami-kun.” - Light motions politely in Teru’s direction causing the boy to freeze again - “We’ll be studying together at some point.”

Instantly a triangle of exchanged looks forms. Teru stares at Light with obvious confusion, Emi acknowledges Teru’s existence for the first time and Light is naturally the only one still smiling. 

“Really?” She asks with traces of polite skepticism, her gaze lingering a little too long on the shabby state of Teru’s black shoes before her eyes meet his again. “I didn’t know you two were on speaking terms,” _I didn’t know you were on speaking terms with anybody come to that, Mikami._

The fact that he and Light are apparently on speaking terms now is also news to Teru himself, and he mistakenly assumes the question had been intended for Light and for better or for worse, misses Emi’s initial glance downwards. 

Growing impatient with a lack of answer, Emi links arms with Light. “Well I guess i’ll see you around then,” she concludes and turns her attention back to Light. “Let’s go!”

Light offers a curt nod of farewell that doesn’t begin to address the question embedded in Teru’s bewildered expression and the two walk away looking every bit like a picturesque cliche of a young spring romance.

Teru stares after them feeling disoriented and faintly irritated. After a moment he, too, leaves school grounds fully determined to forget this anomalous interaction ever happened. After all, it’s perfectly clear now what that elusive ulterior motive had been: Yagami Light was only using him to pass the time. As expected, it’s hardly anything worth wasting any more of his time on. 

“So when did you and Mikami start talking, Light?” Emi asks when they’re safely out of earshot. 

“Just now,” Light admits with a laugh. “What a weird guy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Emi is a character who is given a single line reference in the Death Note manga. She is listed as one of the girls that Light was dating while he was trying to hide his connections to Misa. I've given her the name Hashimoto Emi.  
> \- Suzuhara is the unnamed friend that walks home from school with Light and Yamamoto.


	2. Mountains and Molehills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A crack in monotony appears. Nobody wanted it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a couple of notes pertaining to cultural references made in this chapter. Hopefully it'll be less obnoxious going forward.  
> \- PASMO cards are prepaid cards that can be used to pay for train tickets in addition to other goods. Of note, the PASMO cards are used for the private rail lines that go through Setagaya ward. The publicly owned rail lines (for instance, the Yamanote line) use Suica cards instead.  
> \- Setagaya ward is a suburban ward away from central Tokyo. The district of Seijo is a wealthy residential district in Setagaya. Futakotamagawa (or Futako) is located by the Tama river, and is also a popular residential and commercial district of Setagaya.  
> \- "Harapeko Aomushi" is the Japanese title of the children's book "The Very Hungry Caterpillar."  
> \- Yushima Shrine is a shrine located in Tokyo's Bunkyo ward. This shrine is typically frequented by students prior to taking university entrance exams for luck as Bunkyo ward is the ward in which Tokyo University is located.  
> \- 2LDK house is real estate lingo used in Japan to indicate a 2 bedroom house with a living room, dining room and kitchen. 
> 
> Additionally I have decided on the kanji for Emi's name  
> \- 橋本 Hashimoto - bridg, origin, 愛命 Emi - love, fate
> 
> Enjoy!

“There’s a rumor that he’s cursed,” Emi says, matching Light’s incredulity with a soft scoff. “I don’t know the details, but I heard a bunch of people he didn’t like died.”

Light laughs as they enter the train station. First hand experience of Mikami Teru had been more than sufficient to explain away the boy’s popularity or lack thereof, but this nugget of information is an additional, unexpected gem of a bad 2chan post.

“You don’t say...” he replies, half grinning as he pulls out a brown leather wallet from his pocket. _It’s not like he needs help from the spirits of the dead to keep people away from him._ “Should I be looking into buying a talisman?”

Emi shakes her head at the humor and dismisses it entirely with a wave of her hand. The topic is juvenile and she should have known better than to help spread unkind rumors in the first place.

“I just feel sorry for him that this silly gossip is following him around when he probably wants to forget about it. Anyway - Oh! The train!”

Abandoning all conversation for the moment, Light and Emi dash for the platform. Except to hold her PASMO card over the reader at the train station turnstiles, Emi has been a barnacle attached to Light’s arm, and the instant the doors close behind them, she monopolizes his arm once more. 

The trains servicing Setagaya ward aren’t terribly crowded sixty minutes before commuters from central Tokyo flood them to suffocating overcapacity and so it’s with ease that Light and Emi are able to find empty seats. 

Mikami Teru all but forgotten in the two minute flurry of activity, Emi shifts trying to make the plastic seat less uncomfortable. It’s exciting to be going home with Light instead of Yuri today, and if the rest of the afternoon pans out as planned, they’ll be alone for a couple of hours -- a frightening and hopeful prospect. _If I don’t die first..._ she represses the desire to fiddle with her hair and steers away from thinking about anything that could make her cheeks burn. . . 

“Anyway, how come you didn’t volunteer to be the male class representative of 3-B, Light? I thought you’d do that for sure this year.” 

Light sighs internally as the return to mundanity effective kills any inertia the conversation had. 

“Because I’d rather use that time to study for the university entrance exams.” _And even if that weren't true, I’d rather be stabbed than have to deal with people squabbling over school mascots and party themes._

“Eh? You’re already studying even though it’s still April….?”

A faintly incredulous look shouldn’t have the same silencing effect as naked derision, but the rest of her question wilts on her tongue. But of course, she’s overreacting - _as always._

“Of course I am,” he replies, skepticism seamlessly melting into a reassuring smile. “I need the best possible scores if I want to go to a top university so I’m giving this one everything I’ve got.”

Students across the nation sweat blood over this exam. Even Light who usually views tests the same way an astrophysicist might eye a copy of “Harapeko Aomushi,” had chosen not to take any risks with this one. This academic term is the only one he’s ever asked to be enrolled in cram school in order to better prepare him for university entrance exams - not for the mind numbing lectures, but for the practice tests that he would gain access to. His mother, Sachiko, ever encouraging of his academic career, had gladly paid for cram school, though he’d not escaped Sayu’s teasing that even her all-knowing brother must be afraid. 

It wouldn’t have been Light’s description of choice, but perhaps she’s not far off the mark, even if he’d brushed it off as not wanting to underestimate something of vital importance.  
Effectively this would mean all leisure time would have to be measured from now on, each hour would have to be treated like ingots of gold, not to be given away or used frivolously. 

“So I take it you won’t be going to Yushima shrine with me, Yamamoto-kun, Suzuhara-kun and Yuri-chan in January, huh?” Emi jokes, fully expecting him to rebuff the notion. Light is, after all, Light. And just like Light, he doesn’t disappoint. 

“Of course not,” he fires back playfully. “I’ll score perfectly on every subject with or without the favor of gods, you’ll see.” 

Light’s casual arrogance ought to be the target of great mockery, and coming from other boys, Emi could easily see herself rolling her eyes and walking away. But because it’s Light, who knows how to smile just in the right way, he makes it impossible to hate him when he actually manages to soar above an awed crowd.

“Show off,” she grumbles half-heartedly, leaning her head against his arm and contentedly closes her eyes. _I’m so lucky._

Light steals a glance at his watch. Being on a tighter schedule than usual has made him all the more conscious of the passage of time. School ends at 3:30PM, he goes home, works on homework, takes case notes, eats a quick meal, then it’s off to cram school at 6:25PM and back home again by 10:30PM. Rinse, lather and repeat. Where does Emi fit into this ultra-structured life?

They disembark at Seijo just a few short stops later. The Hashimoto family residence is almost exactly how Light imagined it. From the pristine neighborhood to the rows of identical cream colored single unit houses, each boxed in by slate colored gates, it’s as though someone duplicated Light’s own neighborhood in Futako and rebuilt it a mere five kilometers away. 

As Emi approaches her home, a low whine comes from the other side of the gate as blunt nails scrabble against metal. Light pauses instinctively and turns to his girlfriend with a querying look. 

“Oh, that’s Shin-kun,” Emi explains, grinning at Light’s hesitation. “Don’t worry, he’s very friendly. He’ll like you a lot, I’m sure!” 

Light remains dubious. There’d been a time a decade earlier when he and Sayu, aged seven and five respectively, begged their mother for a puppy. The request had been met with a hands-on-hips stern expression and a conversation ending response of: “Absolutely not, they’ll leave fur everywhere and tear up the furniture.” It’d been one of the rare times that Yagami Sachiko seemed as insurmountable as their father. Not that the iron wall of Sachiko’s judgment had put a definitive end to his and Sayu’s grand ambitions. Instead, they’d simply chose to redefine their desires and settle for pets of a less cuddly and furry variety. Pets that could be kept in plastic cages hidden under the bed and away from Sachiko’s watchful eyes. Pets of the arthropod variety.

Emi pushes the swing gate inwards and a Shikoku-Inu with black and tan fur snakes his way around the side delightedly wagging his tail. She laughs, bending down to scratch his head affectionately. Light watches this happy reunion with veiled indifference. Perhaps more of his mother’s influence has coaxed its way into his thoughts over the years than originally thought. _Dogs are such slobbery animals. Needy, too._

“Do you want to pet him?” Emi asks, glancing up at him over her shoulder. 

_What are we, five?_ Light thinks and doesn’t verbalize. “I’ll pass,” he says with a half smile. “My mother is allergic to dogs.” _She may as well be anyway._ “I don’t want to get dander on my clothes if I can avoid it.” 

“Oh…” Emi’s smile fades somewhat as she straightens up. Feeling inconsiderate would be irrational - after all, how would she have known this in advance? Nevertheless it’s too easy to lapse into momentary awkwardness. One, two, three missed beats drag through sticky syrup and she forces an understanding smile: “Well, it’s good that we’re keeping Shin-kun outside as much as possible during shedding season.” 

The fact that she bothers making that distinction makes it clear that there’ll likely be an invitation to come inside shortly afterwards. Slowly, Yamamoto’s offhand comment to “share the details” earlier begins to make sense in some ways, but scrambles the issue in others. 

“I see,” Light replies, slipping one of his hands inside his blazer pocket. _Why does Yamamoto know about things like this and why didn’t he warn me about it?_

“....Hey Light,” Emi says quietly, moving closer. _It’s now or never. Don’t be nervous, don’t look nervous._ “Do you want to come inside? It’ll just be us two for an hour or so.” 

She forces herself to make eye contact, her heart racing despite the fact that there’s nothing to specifically be nervous about. He’s her boyfriend of three months and she has a magazine selling smile and figure. Yet Light’s facial expression is difficult to interpret and even tasseomancy seem more straightforward in comparison.  
.  
_There’s nothing wrong with the invitation, is there?_ She frets, and he hesitates, both unknowingly united in their uncertainty.

It’s easy enough to work out that Yamamoto had never warned Light of this because he hadn’t thought such things were worth warnings. Why would they be? He and Emi have held hands. They’ve linked arms, they’ve kissed. The natural progression of things dictates that this process is not meant to arrest at chaste kisses, but to continue down a set trajectory of youthful indiscretion. Light would be lying if he said he’d never thought about it before, and has never been vaguely curious about the kinds of secrets that stay in the red light district of Kabukicho, but it’s always been through a lens of detached amusement that neither Yamamoto nor Suzuhara seem to share. In the end, Light is quite certain he has more interesting things to do than waste his time imagining rods in slots. 

But speaking of having better things to do with his imagination, it’s equally clear that Light has allowed his to skip ahead of reality. For all he knows, this could all end with a civilized cup of tea. As unlikely as that seems. But even if he’s wrong, what’s the harm? 

_Is there any harm other than a hypothetical opportunity cost?_

This ought to be an easy decision - one that others in his place might not hesitate to make at all. Indecision turns to self derision in an instant. _This is backwards, Yagami. Stupid._

Almost too easily, he replies: “Sure.”

Emi smiles then, placing her hand over his and leads him through the gate. Her movements are fluid, graceful even, but there’s nerous tension in her fingers where they contact Light’s skin, like she’s preparing to run a marathon instead of unlocking her front door.  
The dog follows them and inquisitively sniffs Light’s leg. After another pause, Light leans down to finally pat the damn thing on the head. Anticipating Emi’s raised eyebrow, he straightens up with an air of nonchalance.  
.  
“Since I’ll be going inside I can always wash my hands, right?”

The atmosphere seems to lighten palpably and Emi finally laughs in relief. “Nope, that’s not allowed under any circumstance.” She pushes the door open and leads him inside by the hand. 

 

The interior is what Light assumes to be a standard 2LDK house, tidy enough to please even his mother and furnished tastefully enough to belong inside a real-estate brochure for the upper middle class.

Emi has obviously been coached to receive her father’s important visitors with the appropriate amount of decorum as she makes an obligatory offer of refreshments and with a teasing half-smile points out the upstairs bathroom.

It’s odd, Light concludes, to be in a room belonging to a girl who isn’t his sister. Unlike Sayu, who has chosen to decorate her walls with glossy images of Ryuga Hideki and other idol elites, Emi’s room is more subdued and decorated with photographs of friends and family - all mostly forgettable until he spots something that makes him laugh. _Sunsets over Fuji, really, Emi?_

“Hey it’s not like that okay?” She hastily explains after following his line of sight. “My dad just says a lot of weird things about waking up in the morning to reminders of why you should be a proud Japanese -- Stop laughing already!”

It’s not until after hands have been washed and empty glasses of water are left to sit on Emi’s desk, that he’s invited to sit on her bed. Kisses are already part of an established routine, if somewhat boring after more than a minute, but unlike conversation it doesn’t require him to pay close attention. 

Her hand moves slowly up the inseam of his pants, her touch so tentative that it’s unpleasantly ticklish rather than enticing. The desire to catch her wrist and stop her from continuing is suppressed and doesn’t fade until her fingers brush his length. Then his breath hitches damnably. 

Emi tries not to giggle. There’s nothing funny about this, but having never tried anything of this nature before, all her anxious anticipation seems to have turned into uncontrollable butterflies in her stomach. 

“I- I’ve never…. You’re the first time, so….” She starts nervously, and closes her fingers around him with more certainty. 

Light grits his teeth as her hand moves back and forth over his clothes. Sensations familiar to those times when he’d been tense and bored at night come to life. That was before the novelty of masturbation had worn off and turned into an action that is too mindless and too pointless to be worth the five minutes of breathless pleasure afterwards. 

He is supposed to want this. This is an experience most teenagers dream about, masturbate to and brag about amongst friends in locker rooms.

Instead it’s beginning to feel embarrassing and unbearable the longer this goes on. It’s disturbing how a simple act can turn a person into a set of biological functions barely more sophisticated than a doll programmed to say prerecorded words like ‘mama’ and ‘papa’ when its hands are pressed 

Rather than tolerating this all the way through to the messy conclusion, Light gently places his hand over her slender wrist. It’s better to stop before it gets further because neither of them have anything to gain from enduring in silence. Or from prolonging an inconsequential relationship. 

“Hey…” Speaking in soft, low tones is misleadingly affectionate, which is perhaps the correct start, but the correct words to say are frustratingly elusive. 

“Ah? Am I doing this…...” Emi starts and trails off when she sees the serious expression on Light’s face. She allows him to lift her hand limply away from him.

“I’m not sure how to say this, but I don’t want to get involved like this right now.”

The incomprehension on her features speaks for itself. _But what’s that supposed to mean? I don’t understand. Please don’t do this to me.. Please don’t say what I think -_

“It’s an critical time, not just for me but for both of us. I don’t want either of us to get distracted from what’s really important.”

 _\- you’re going to …._

At first the words register like a feint before the knockout blow. A ripple effect begins with her hands shaking and spreads up to her shoulders, and then her whole body feels like it’s on the verge of falling apart like her small hopes to be a little closer to the boy she likes. 

It doesn’t feel like drowning, it doesn’t even feel like all the colors are draining from her dreams like all the cliches suggest. Instead it’s filth under her fingernails spreading like poison under her skin, and pooling in the corners of her eyes. Sadness and anger don’t usually seem like synonyms, but it’s all the same when the only thought that’s clear anymore is three simple words: _I’m not okay._

Light sits in silence. Expecting Emi to take this well would have been foolish on his part, but the magnitude of her disappointment is difficult to take completely seriously. Nobody enters a high school relationship thinking it’ll be forever. Still he waits patiently to be dismissed to allow her the illusion of retaining some of her pride. In the end, he takes no pleasure in upsetting Emi this way.

Mercifully, it isn’t a long wait. 

“I think you should go,” she says flatly, keeping he eyes on the powder blue duvet. 

Not needing to be told twice, Light rises to his feet and sighs. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

That ought to have been the end of it. It’s admittedly not the cleanest end to a relationship, but that chapter of his life is over now. There’s no fanfare or celebration, but there is a lingering discomfort when he gives the afternoon a spare thought during the remainder of his Friday. The notion of any sex act being _fun_ seems to be at odds with reality of how underwhelming it is. But then again, it wouldn’t be the first time Light has disagreed with other people’s priorities. 

But while he’d have been content to move on and never think about this again, the world has other plans brewing for him on Monday afternoon during their lunch break. Lunch in hand, he enters the cafeteria and quckly scans it for any sign of his friends. He spots Emi and Yuri deep in conversation at the table by the windows, then looks elsewhere to prevent any unfortunate eye contact from being made. In the corner, Mikami sits alone practically invisible with his chair pressed against the wall and his head buried in a book. 

“Oi, Light,”

As if choreographed to perfection, Light half turns and looks over his shoulder to grin at Yamamoto. Judging from the look of concern however, he’s not interested in their usual friendly banter today. This would have been a welcome deviation most days, but Light can guess what this is about and before a single word has been exchanged he’s already exasperated. Not that following Mikami’s lead in attempting to blend into the wall would have made him harder to intercept; in a sea of students with dark hair, copper stands out like a beacon.

“Where’s Suzuhara?” Light asks, though Yamamoto is not so easily deterred.

“Nakamura-sensei held him back because he was drawing instead of paying attention to calculus - you know the usual. I’m not sure why Nakamura-sensei keeps trying.” Impatiently, Yamamoto forges on. “Anyway, what happened between you and Emi-chan that she and Yuri-chan are both giving me and Suzuhara the cold shoulder all of a sudden?”

Light represses a sigh. Despite a secret craving for something _different_ , unnecessary social drama is even more annoying than the stability of monotony. He doesn’t shrug, but it’s all but audible between the lines. 

“That’s probably because we broke up. Emi wasn’t happy about it.” 

Yamamoto looks at Light as though he’s sprouted a third arm. The almost cavalier delivery doesn’t help at all. When it becomes apparent that the statement doesn’t come with a “Just kidding” attached, he finally opens his mouth again. 

“...Oooookay then. Do I get to hear why?” Surely people don’t end three month long relationships and feel absolutely nothing afterwards.

“I don’t really have time for a girlfriend right now,” Light explains more patiently than he feels Yamamoto deserves. “Between school, cram school, studying and that case I’m supposed to be helping out with, it just didn’t seem fair to Emi, you see?”

Ultimately it’s not _really_ a lie, regardless of what the precipitating event had been.

When Yamamoto’s continued staring makes it clear that he does not, in fact, see, Light decides that while he may not be able to avoid this game of twenty questions forever, he can push it back to the end of the day during the walk home. 

“Anyway, I have to talk to that guy. I’ll tell you about it later.”

There's nothing Yagami Light would ever _have_ to say to the school recluse; and the comment is nothing more than a flimsy excuse to get away from an irritating cross examination over lunch. Before Yamamoto can object however, Light makes his way toward the far corner of the cafeteria. Teru, who had otherwise done exactly as intended and gave no further thought to his own Friday afternoon, is too immersed in the text to observe anyone approaching. He blinks in surprise when he’s interrupted by a polite question from a familiar voice. 

“Is this seat taken, Mikami-kun?”

The question is inherently loaded and they both know it. Teru can’t say ‘yes, it is’ with any degree of credibility when it’s blatantly obvious the seat is not taken at all because nobody would take it in the first place. It’s been two seconds and Teru already feels inexplicably boxed in. This time it’s worse by virtue of being familiar. It’s not a feeling he wants to get used to and yet… with Hashimoto Emi, along with Light’s other friends in plain sight, he has a sinking suspicion that it may become exactly that


	3. Goodbye, Nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: _suicide mention_

Mikami Teru has never been a boy interested in whispered gossip and baseless rumors that seem to be the sources of endless entertainment for his peers. People are no more than clothed animals kept in check by the conformity of the herd. Once the herd has decided to sink its teeth into a target, they’re all clenched fists and vicious kicks. Teru has no desire to immerse himself in the machinery that pleases these people. But as days pass and Yagami Light continues to spare a few friendly words for him, even Teru can’t help passively picking up on hushed secrets that he never wanted to hear. 

For instance, he has now become aware that Yamamoto Masaki and Yagami Light had a falling out of sorts that hasn’t fully resolved. He is now also aware that Hashimoto Emi and Yagami Light are no longer dating and that there is already a line of ecstatic girls vying to take her place. The fact that this knowledge is taking up space in his head is annoying - a blemish in an otherwise perfectly sterilized environment of useful and relevant information. What is he supposed to do with these pointless factoids about someone else’s social life?

In a way he almost misses the days when he knew so little about Yagami Light that when exam scores were posted back in their first year, he’d assumed the only name ranked higher than his own was read “Yagami Tsuki” or perhaps “Yagami Yue.” 

That thought hadn’t lasted long. A boy, who he now knows is Yamamoto, had stood next to him, groaned and called out: “Would it kill you to stop making these results predictable, Light? You coming first every time kills all the suspense.”

Light, who Teru originally decided must be a minor delinquent given his rule breaking hair, had laughed and said something not worth remembering. At first, Without giving it any special thought, Teru intuitively assumed the name “Light” was merely a friendly nickname for this Yagami Tsuki or Yue. The understanding that the kanji for “moon” is, in fact, meant to be read as the English word “light” had come later, hand in hand with a modicum of skeptical incredulity - real people with dignity simply don’t have ridiculous anime sounding names. But of course, such opinions are best left to oneself. 

Those were simpler days when Light was as functionally indistinct to him as everyone else. Now Teru sits at his usual seat at the back corner cafeteria and uncertainty over whether or not the seat across his own will be claimed takes up more of his thoughts than it ever had a right to. 

Some days Light enters the cafeteria alone, other days with only Suzuhara, and others still with both Suzuhara and Shinoda Yuri. Damnably, none of these phenomena appear to correlate to a given outcome and Teru turns the pages of his book annoyed with the knowledge that distractions are preventing him from reading more efficiently. 

The one point that is clear is the inevitability that this is all an impermanent state of affairs. Whenever Yagami and Yamamoto resolve their apparent differences or whatever other social prerequisites are met, Light and Teru will surely return to their comfortably established practices of polite mutual indifference. 

The fact that these small daily exchanges have an expiry date logically doesn’t matter in the slightest. No matter what Mikami Teru will go on to graduate with excellent marks and a place at one of the nation’s finest academic institutions as always intended. That’s all that will really matter about high school. Even so…

“Mikami-kun?” Light asks, raising an eyebrow from across the table. To say that Light has ever known Teru to be a conversation partner with many words would be an exaggeration, but he’s usually not so disengaged that he neglects _eating_ either. 

Teru glances upwards from his hastily packed, half-eaten lunch of rice sprinkled with salmon furikake. This week is an unusually busy one and reminding his aunt that he needs to be given his weekly allowance had seemed unwise under these circumstances.

"Yes?"

“You’re really out of it today.” Light remarks casually, picking up the last bite of his mother’s cooking with silver chopsticks. “Is something wrong?”

Teru pauses briefly before shaking his head. “No, not really.” 

It isn’t a lie because nothing is technically speaking _wrong_. Regardless of the date, today is a day like every other day. Except Light doesn’t let that slide.

“And that’s why you’ve taken to carrying around an omamori with you today, huh?” Light pops the tamagoyaki in his mouth and waits for response as he chews and swallows. 

The question catches Teru off guard. Instinctively he glances backwards at the black school bag hanging from the back of his chair. One corner of a small red talisman peeks out of a side pocket like a neon lit billboard. Teru freezes in his embarrassment. 

Sensing a potentially amusing explanation, Light presses on.

“So what’s the story? You don’t seem like the type to waste money on superstitions.” _You don’t seem stupid enough to spend the money you do have on that stuff at any rate._

“My aunt.” Teru replies, not quite meeting Light’s eyes as he quells the desire to shove the omamori deeper into his bag and take it firmly out of sight. Knowing that this minimalistic answer will fail to sate Light’s curiosity, he resignedly adds filler detail. “She gave it to me this morning.” 

Already dreading the directions Light could take this, Teru takes a small bite of his meal, feeling thoroughly annoyed with himself for his carelessness. Despite Teru’s best efforts, however, the stiffness of his body language doesn’t disappear completely and Light observes it wordlessly.

Whether Light had wanted it or not, it hadn’t been difficult to work out the details of the rumors about Mikami. Inadvertently, but perhaps entirely predictably his appearing to be on friendlier terms with Mikami breathed life back into whispers in the corridor. Whispers about an incident that killed Mikami’s mother along with four of his hated former classmates. Hearing a confirmation that Mikami does apparently live with his aunt would suggest a small degree of truth to the rumors after all, but then again, sad stories about unfortunate coincidences aren’t that interesting. 

“Can I see it?” he asks mildly, setting down his chopsticks after quietly saying a word of thanks for the meal. 

As denying the request will only draw even greater attention to the matter, Teru reaches into his bag and wordlessly hands the talisman over, his unwarranted nervousness intensifying. The red cotton pouch is soft as he turns it in his hands. Embroidered in gold thread are the words “ _For protection against evil spirits._ ”

Light raises an eyebrow, a faint crescent moon grin already beginning to form on his lips. _So even his aunt thinks he’s cursed? This guy just keeps getting weirder and weirder._ He hands it back to Teru, careful to subdue his amusement. 

“So why does she think you need protection from spirits if you don’t mind the question?”

“She’s from Kyoto.” Teru replies dryly, as though that settles the matter entirely. The traditionalism associated with Japan’s former capital must surely provide a sufficient explanation.

It’s Light’s turn to pause. A comment that could be construed as a joke is about the last thing he expects Teru to say and the matter of fact delivery does not help. He laughs, not thinking he’d be laughing, and accepts his aunt’s superstitiousness as such. It’s easy enough to guess today is _likely_ to be the date Mikami’s mother passed away anyway. 

“I see,” he says eventually. “You don’t believe in evil spirits yourself, do you?” 

Teru, who’d been anticipating a flurry of invasive personal questions about the date, is faintly surprised and more privately relieved as he puts the omamori away.

“No.” _If you could call it a ‘spirit’ it’s absolutely not an evil one that exists._

Light nods and begins putting away his utensils. 

“It’d be rather convenient if paying for omamori could protect you from evil spirits even if they did exist.” _Which they don’t._ “But in any case, it’s not evil _spirits_ people have to concern themselves with, it’s tangible sources of evil that exist in the world.”

Despite himself Teru looks at Light and pays closer attention. Academic curiosity and the pursuit of factual truth are one thing, but curiosity about someone’s opinion is another thing entirely - something that leads to disenchantment. 

“But I suppose the problem isn’t one of genuine ignorance, but one of willful ignorance.”

“That doesn’t make it more acceptable,” Teru says a little too forcefully, already disgusted with the direction this appears to be heading. Complacence with the “way the world works” is unacceptable. Evil deserves more than tacit contempt; it deserves systematic extinction. 

Light raises an eyebrow. Of all the subjects he thought might be able to provoke something resembling an actual _tone_ from Mikami, injustice seemed unlikely by default. Most of their grade would have dismissed this as being too far removed from their current concerns. To their credits, Yamamoto and Emi were both soft exceptions to the rule. 

“Of course it doesn’t. It makes it even less excusable that most people would rather settle for the status quo instead of doing something to combat it.”

For a moment, Teru stares in silence. Easy platitudes are still empty words, but even hearing something that isn’t derisive, cruel laughter or unforgivable suggestions to stop fighting for the righteous way is still a breath of fresh air. Shifting slightly to lean forward in his seat, Teru nods with greater solemnity than warranted.

“Agreed. Nothing will change if nobody does anything.”

“Exactly. Whether we want to be or not, we’re all individually responsible for influencing the world around us in a positive way.” After a beat, Light laughs. “Even if it’s only on a small scale for now.” 

_This isn’t a laughing matter_ , Teru half wants to insist. Facetious levity can only mean a lack of sincerity and the conflict between that conviction and somehow _wanting_ to take this conversation at face value leads to yet another uncertain silence. 

“You don’t think so.” Light prompts when it’s clear Mikami has apparently run out of batteries. 

Slightly alarmed to be giving off this impression, Teru shakes his head quickly. “No - not at all. Everything you’ve said is agreeable. It was surprising to hear these views stated so self-evidently.”

It’s overwhelmingly clear who has been talking more between the two of them but it’s Teru who feels as though he may have said too much when he’s treated to a quizzical look. 

”What else would they be if not self-evident?” Light asks somewhat incredulously. 

Instantly Teru feels like he’s lost his footing and has been exposed as a fraud, a person who doesn’t truly belong at his own table sitting with people who couldn’t ever hope to comprehend what it’s like to be so _hated_ for trying to do what’s right. 

“....It’s not that simple,” he replies quietly. 

Where his throat had gone dry with a nervous tension before, an unplaceable bitterness takes its place. Teru drops eye contact and forces down another bite of tasteless food. It isn’t Yagami Light’s fault - _of course not_. It’s the fault of everyone who’d acted like lawless brutes and their passive enablers. _They deserved to disappear and I’m glad they’re gone._

Light observes Mikami eating in silence, less incredulous and more contemplative now. This is about as close to an outburst as Mikami has come to having, and in his typical fashion it’s subdued and understated. As _odd_ as this exchange has been, it’s easy to discern that it’s best to back off at this point. 

“You’re right,” he concedes softly. “But it should be that simple.” Checking his watch, he raises an eyebrow. “Anyway, you’d better eat quickly. There are only three minutes left before class resumes.”

Pausing in the middle of raising his spoon, Teru glances at Light. Making definite eye contact feels wrong somehow, like he’s being probed, but Teru holds it nonetheless and nods in understanding before turning his attention back to his lunch. The ensuing silence doesn’t necessarily make Teru feel any more uncomfortable than he already does, but as he watches Light prop his elbow up on the table and rest his chin in his hand with a look of dispassion, a pinprick of guilt jabs away at his thoughts. 

_There’s nothing I need to feel guilty for_ , Teru chastises himself, as though the sentiment ought to go away once the validity of its existence has been logically negated. Yet the feeling persists intolerably andTeru finally speaks up again. 

“When you said ‘for now’ earlier, it implied you want to have a greater positive influence in the future,” he begins cautiously. “How?”

Light shifts his gaze from the window across the cafeteria to Mikami. “That’s a bit of a forward question, isn’t it, Mikami-kun?” he replies with even nonchalance. 

“That wasn’t the intention,” Teru clarifies quickly, already wishing he’d left the silence as is. 

Light laughs. “It’s not actually a secret. I plan on working full time for the NPA.”

“Full time?” Teru repeats with a querying look. _As in you’re already working for them?_

“Full time,” Light confirms, straightening up and rising from his chair. As if on cue, the westminster chime begins to play and the other students follow suit. “Later, Mikami-kun.”

Teru hurriedly packs away his belongings, replacing the lid on his unfinished lunch box and quickly makes his way to his homeroom. Save for the occasional rumbling noises from his stomach, the remainder of the school day passes by mercifully uneventfully and Teru makes the solitary journey home. Like many of the others, he also takes the train home though his stop is the Kyodo station of Setagaya ward. It’s a far shorter commute to school than the one he’d grown accustomed to when he was still attending junior high school in the ward of Arakawa on the opposite side of Tokyo. It couldn’t have been helped back then and ultimately he didn’t mind. Teru had become quite good at studying efficiently on public transport. 

When Mikami Junko passed away nearly four years ago, Teru had assumed he would be relocating to Kyoto’s Sakyo ward where his grandparents live, but had been pleasantly surprised to hear that such a large move would not be necessary. After all, his paternal aunt, Kudo Hidemi, and uncle by marriage, Kudo Daisuke, conveniently live in Setagaya, Tokyo. At first this confused him as he’d never heard of these people before,but all the same he packed up his scant possessions and showed up at a comfortable apartment in Kyodo that was at least double the size of the claustrophobic apartment his mother could afford with her two paychecks. 

Arriving there for the first time was one of the only times Teru felt something resembling cold rage on Mikami Junko’s behalf past her death. The years they lived scrupulously budgeting to pay the bills, rent and for groceries, and the look of quiet despair on her face when he’d come home with his steel frame glasses broken and the lenses cracked had him convinced that the Kudo’s total absence could only mean they were also struggling to survive. 

Instead Teru had been given the spare bedroom already furnished with a bed and an overstuffed mattress, a matching desk and chair, and his very own functional but outdated desktop computer. Newer ones were reserved for his aunt and uncle’s personal study. This place occupied by these people - they would never be _home_. 

“I’ve returned,” he says dutifully when he enters the Kudo residence. 

“Welcome back,” his aunt replies, both uncharacteristically present and dressed in a formal black mourning dress, her eyes red from crying. Teru closes the door behind him in silence, bowing to her before removing his shoes and neatly leaving toes turned towards the door. 

“I’ll be leaving soon,” Hidemi informs him, her tone curt and businesslike . “Your uncle and I will return later in the evening after we’ve paid our respects to my brother. You can take care of your own dinner.”

 _I always take care of my own dinner,_ Teru thinks and doesn’t bother pointing out. Instead he gives her a conciliatory nod and begins moving towards his room at the end of the long hallway. 

Teru hadn’t known much about his father, Mikami Kenichi. The man had died when he was very young, and as far back as he can remember asking Junko why other children had fathers only resulted in forced smiles and hugs that were too tight. 

_He’s in a better place_ , she’d tell him. _Even if he’s not here, he’s definitely watching over you and me, Teru-chan._

In time, he learned not to ask. Instead Teru had made up his mind to make sure his mother would not have to worry about him on top of all her many other responsibilities.

Eventually even the desire to _know_ what happened subsided entirely. They never tended to a grave on anniversaries and nobody called the apartment to express their sympathies. In the end, it had been his aunt who told him a truth he no longer cared to know about on this exact day three years ago when she first pressed a red omamori into his hands. His confusion must have been more transparent than intended then as Hidemi was quick to elaborate. 

Against the advice of his mother, father and sister, Mikami Kenichi put everything he had in the stock market, investing in assets whose value seemed would only go up without end, convincing friends and clients alike to follow suit. But limitlessness is more often than not a trick of the mind, a self-flattering deception, and when the economic bubble finally burst, Kenichi’s life as he knew it was over. He’d gone from being a falcon riding the thermals to having severed stumps for wings. No longer able to endure the shame of facing his friends, his wife and their young son, Kenichi chose to end it all and hung himself in a cheap motel room far from home. 

Teru already knows what to expect and the words don’t even touch him anymore when Hidemi says them.

“If it weren’t for your selfish, negligent good-for-nothing mother, your father would still be with us today.”

Teru doesn’t correct her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put the bulk of my notes at the end this time as I didn't think there was anything that specifically required an explanation to smooth over the flow of the chapter. If anyone has a strong preference one way or another, let me know! Otherwise the plan will be to leave notes (and content warnings if applicable) at the top of the chapter if I feel not explaining the references would actively deter from following along and at the bottom by default. 
> 
> For this chapter:  
> \- Omamori are the Japanese amulet/charms that are sold at shrines. They have various purposes, but the one Teru receives is specifically called a yaku-yoke omamori meant to ward off evil spirits/influences.  
> \- Furikake is a kind of dry seasoning used to flavor plain rice.  
> \- Tamagoyaki probably doesn't require any explanation at all but they're essentially rolled up omelettes.  
> \- Arakawa ward has some of the cheapest apartments in Tokyo  
> \- The economic crisis referred to in this chapter is based on a real life event known as the "Japanese Asset Price Bubble" (バブル景気) that began in 1986
> 
> Name meanings:  
> \- 魅上 (Mikami) - Fascination / Above  
> \- 健一 (Kenichi) - Healthy / One  
> \- 順子 (Junko) - Obedient / Child
> 
> 久遠 (Kudo) - Long time / Distant  
> 大輔 (Daisuke) - Big / Help  
> 秀味 (Hidemi) - Excellent / Taste
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you thought about Teru if you feel so inclined. Curious minds are very curious :)


	4. Cherry Blossom Season is Over

The walk home is quieter than usual. Inconvenient habits like Yamamoto, Suzuhara and Light taking the same route home are indifferent to the awkward atmosphere that has settled between them. Like spotting an insect thrashing in its death throes in your peripheral vision, it’s something largely ignorable but obtrusively _present_ all the same. In the end, routines are difficult to break and none of them are stubborn enough to pretend they can’t see each other. 

As junior high students they ran along the banks of the Tama river, laughing and reveling in their liberation from parental supervision. It’s sickening how little things have fundamentally changed since then. They’re older and much taller now, but it’s all the same inconsequential conversation to idly pass the time. Still the same dreary little world. 

The irony of their present situation is that Light isn’t even _angry_ at Yamamoto anymore, though he had been initially. One too many prying questions about what Emi had done - (“Nothing. It just wasn’t working out”) - and one facetious comment too many - (“Man, you couldn’t have at least waited to break up _after_ I asked Yuri-chan out?”) - led to an single unwise retort.. 

_So Shinoda could turn you down first, is that it?_

Light sighs. That’d been harsh in retrospect and because he hadn’t said it with enough of a playful lilt too much truth was peppered into the comment. Now he has Yamamoto’s purple-and-blue bruised ego to suffer through despite having issued an apology already. 

All things considered, it’s no wonder that Suzuhara is choosing to play Switzerland.

“That’s the frustrating part about this week’s chapter!” Suzuhara says animatedly. “The cliffhanger is killing me. I need it to be next week already, haha.”

 _I couldn’t agree with you more there,_ Light privately echoes the sentiment. _Anything to get closer to next year._ Raising an eyebrow, he laughs. 

“What for? It’s Jump. You know the protagonists never die in those stories. Or if they do, they don’t stay dead. Just watch - the plot twist will be that the main character is part demon and dying will activate his secret powers. That or one of the side characters has healing powers that they’ve been hiding all this time.” A beat and a mischievous smile. “Or maybe the whole thing gets cancelled before the deus ex machina can save the day.”

To Suzuhara’s left, Yamamoto snorts and abruptly stifles himself to return to an unnatural self enforced rigid manner. Light spares him a quick glance then turns his attention back to Suzuhara’s mock outrage.

The incredulous look shot in his direction doesn’t last long, but even as it makes Yamamoto torture the inside of his lip, seeing his best friend treat him like a forgettable footnote feels even worse. _Except I’m doing exactly the same thing, so I’m just being a hypocrite._

Arguments and confrontations have a way of making Yamamoto’s skin feel too tight, like his own discomfort is stretching it taut. A week ago, he would have been able to pinpoint exactly what had upset him, but time and an uncertain truce has distorted the issue so much that he no longer knows what the point of continuing to behave like this really is, what to apologize for or how to even initiate that conversation. After all, Light apologized right away and the one who hadn’t been able to accept it was…. _me. Because I was too caught off guard to just laugh it off._

“Come on, Masaki,” Suzuhara says, nudging Yamamoto’s ribs hard with an elbow. “Don’t take Light’s side.” _Don’t be like this in general while you’re at it, too._

“I’m not,” Yamamoto protests feebly, not quite looking either of his friends in the eye. 

_Incredible how Yamamoto can manage to be more annoying when there are fewer words coming out of his mouth._ Light thinks, growing exasperated. 

Suzuhara sighs and hangs his head. This is getting unbearable. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but having his energy slowly sapped over an argument about girls and egos is exhausting. Alas, enduring in silence is the price you pay for not taking sides, even though there’s nothing he’d like to do more than give the people on either side of him a vigorous shaking. 

“Traitor,” he mutters quietly. Pausing mid-step when an impromptu escape plan comes to mind, he groans audibly. “...Damn, I left my notebook behind, I have to go get it. I’ll see you both tomorrow!”

“Huh?” Yamamoto blurts out, shaken from his thoughts. 

“You don’t want us to come with you?” Light asks. 

“Nah, I’ll be fine. Go on without me,” Suzuhara waves and doubles back before further objections can be raised. “Later!”

 _You’re not even going to pretend to check your bag, huh._ But Light leaves the discrepancy unvoiced; he can’t blame the guy for wanting to get away from them right now. Of course, losing Suzuhara as a buffer will only heighten the drudgery of the rest of the way home. A most thrilling prospect indeed. 

As their friend disappears around the corner, Light turns to Yamamoto with a dubious look and finds his skepticism matched by a reciprocally raised eyebrow. Expecting yet another tired round of passive aggressive civility from Yamamoto, he shrugs noncommittally and resumes walking.

The season is starting to change from spring to summer and around them the last of the cherry blossoms are dying in Hyogojima Park, their delicate pink petals now a dirty yellow and brown where pedestrians have trampled them into the pavement. To Light’s relief, Sayu made a face without prompting when Sachiko suggested that the three of them go to the park together to watch them fall over the weekend. 

Arms loose at his side, Light keeps his eyes on the irregular pattern of rotting flora and grey concrete. 

_If you step on the petals, you’ll be cursed so you have to be really careful,_ he once teased Sayu, brimming with all the sagely wisdom of an eight-year-old prodigy. She’d been more gullible back then and his mother had to tell him off for upsetting her. 

Faintly amused, Light raises his head and catches the eyes of two passing girls, arms linked and wearing navy blue uniforms from a local public school. They turn to one another, hands covering their smiling mouths as they cross paths. 

Yamamoto tries not to sigh at the wordless exchange. Jealousy is an ugly sentiment, and he doesn’t want to be the kind of insidious person. They’ve been friends for years and although it’s always been clear that Light is cleverer, more athletic and more popular than he could ever be, Light was so easy to talk to that those things just didn’t really matter. 

_And they still don’t matter. Because we’re friends. Friends aren’t supposed to be like this so just… say something._

Swallowing once, Yamamoto clears his throat. “...He’s awful at lying.”

The initiation of conversation comes as a mild but not unwelcome surprise, though the tone of Light’s reply remains cautiously nonchalant. “So you noticed that, too.”

Encouraged by a response that isn’t as uselessly noncommittal the ones he’s been guilty of giving, Yamamoto responds more confidently. “He never goes back to school for notebooks. I wouldn’t have questioned it if he said he’d left some drawing project of his behind, but like this…..”

“He could have taken a look in his bag before dashing off, as well,” Light half-smiles, determined to keep Yamamoto talking now that he’s stopped acting like a cardboard cutout. “I’d say we should tell Suzuhara, but how bad he is at lying is almost endearing.” _It isn’t._

“Eh…? Endearing?” Yamamoto raises an eyebrow.

“Charming. Cute. Convenient.” Light clarifies with an easy laugh. “One of those things anyway.”

Despite himself, Yamamoto grins. “I’ll tell him you said that.”

“Go right ahead,” Light shoots back without missing a beat. “But don’t think I won’t tell him you laughed.”

“I did no such thing.”

“Would you prefer ‘complicit’ then?” Light arches an eyebrow.

“You’re that determined to take me down with you, huh.”

Light smirks playfully. “Of course. What else are friends for, Yamamoto?”

Yamamoto momentarily deflates. _Hell if I know. I’ve been a useless friend._ This is the most relaxed conversation he’s had with Light in a while and despite a residual burn of something faintly corrosive coating his insides, their friendship is worth more than that. It’s time for him to show it.

“Oi, Light…” he starts a little too seriously whilst feeling for pieces of lint to roll between his fingers in the crevices of his blazer pocket. 

“Mm?” Light glances over with a leftward movement of his eyes. Yamamoto is fidgeting, his nervousness couldn’t have been more obvious than if it had screamed for attention. Perhaps he’s been friends with Yamamoto and Suzuhara for so long that their individual quirks are now so thoroughly decoded as to be as transparent as cellophane. After a second of wondering if the same is true in reverse, Light mentally shakes his head. _I’m not going to eat you, you know._

“About what I said before. About wishing you’d waited longer before ending it with Emi-chan.” Yamamoto pauses, internally cursing the lint-free state of his school clothes. Then, growing increasingly exasperated with himself for treating a simple apology like he’s about to address the Diet, Yamamoto raises his gaze. 

“I shouldn’t have said that. That was insensitive. If things didn’t work out between you and Emi-chan, it’s good that you ended it sooner rather than later. You’re my friend so obviously that’s the most important thing.” A beat. “You being happy I mean…. Assuming that it’s within reason.” Mortified by his own babbling, Yamamoto hastily adds: “Or whatever, you know what I mean. And,” he swallows once. “And I’m sorry for acting like an idiot.” 

Light blinks and withholds immediate commentary. The apology is long overdue, but he doesn’t feel any satisfaction in hearing it; annoyance doesn’t magically disappear with a handful of words no matter how sincere. But then again, the pledged end to this stupid non-fight is a welcome step in the right direction. After a beat, the corners of his lips curve upwards into a teasing smile. 

“... so that’s it? With all this dramatic build up, I was at least expecting a card.”

“Why would I get you a card?” Yamamoto splutters, thrown off by the mood whiplash. 

“To placate me obviously.” Light replies, raising his hands behind his neck to cradle the back of his head. 

Yamamoto stares blankly, still struggling to catch up with business as usual for real. Feeling both silly and relieved, he laughs more freely than he has in a while. “No way. You’re already insufferable enough as it is, Light.”

“I suppose that makes you an M, huh.” Light muses, as unperturbed as a cat basking in sunlight. 

“Shut up.” 

Light laughs. “Ouch. First I’m insufferable and now I can’t even talk. Is this really how you speak to me after that heartfelt apology?” 

“Yeah. It is. Who’s the M now?” Yamamoto counters. 

“You know….” Light lowers his arms. “They say people in denial about their flaws tend to project them in others instead.” 

Yamamoto snorts. “They also say it takes one to know one.”

The grin on Light’s lips doesn’t waver. “There are two kinds of ‘theys’ in the world - right and wrong. And-”

“Let me guess,” Yamamoto interrupts, rolling his eyes. “I got the wrong ‘they’ according to you.” 

As they pass by the last park bench on their route home, the elderly couple who bring a brown paper bag of soft bread to feed the squirrels on Wednesday afternoons nod in a friendly greeting. Light and Yamamoto bow respectfully as they pass. 

“I wouldn’t know,” Light laughs once out of earshot. “But seeing how you are around Shinoda...” 

Turning red, Yamamoto adjusts his glasses and mumbles in half-defense. “...well it’s hard to argue with her when she gets an idea.”

Light nods in agreement as they wait for the traffic light to change to green at the crosswalk. “She’s a bit stubborn, yeah.” _To say the least._

Light isn’t certain whether Emi put her up to it or not, but Yuri’s recent inquisitiveness over his future plans is getting exasperating. If nothing else, however, he could at least make use of some of the pointless factoids he’s learned about the girl for Yamamoto’s sake. “She thinks Dorami is cute, by the way.”

“She does?” Yamamoto perks up curiously.

Light shakes his head with a laugh. “You’re hopeless.”

By the time they reach Light’s home and part ways, even Light has to admit that being on friendlier terms with Yamamoto has lifted his spirits.

“I’m home,” he calls out, turning the key and pushing open the front door. 

“Welcome home, oniichan!” Sayu replies jauntily. 

Light doesn’t have to look to know that she’ll be sprawled out on the couch with a magazine in one hand and the remote within reach of the other. He starts taking off his shoes and spots an unexpected pair of black loafers.

“Dad’s home?” Light asks, looking over at the living room. As it turns out, he might have been right about Sayu’s general vicinity, but she’s dressed less casually than usual. 

_A necklace, Sayu?_ Light mentally shakes his head in private amusement. _A lifetime of insisting on not being a “girly girl” slowly crumbling away with the advent of teenagehood. Soon she’ll be chasing after a boyfriend. ….Dad will kill him._

“Yep! Dad came home really early today.” Overflowing with excitement, Sayu sits up on the couch and hastily smoothes out a crease in her dust pink tunic dress. Before Light can ask if she’s planning on going out with her friends later, she charges on.

“Congrats, oniichan! Dad said they arrested the guy you told the task force to look into.” 

Light blinks. _Huh? That was fast…?_

Laughing at his confusion, Sayu gives him a playful salute. “Thanks to you, Tokyo’s a little safer and!!” She pauses dramatically. “We’re going out to dinner!!”

“...Oi,” Light says, working hard not to smile and failing all the same. “When you say it in that order, it makes it sound like dinner is the more important issue here.”

Sayu huffs loudly, only half teasingly. “Boooring. Oniichan, you’re hopeless.”

*****  
\----  
Elsewhere in Tokyo, Teru turns on the television as he prepares to eat dinner alone as usual. The Kudos work late into the evening and return to the apartment well past the average citizen’s dinner time. Nobody insisted on having family meal times and Teru certainly wasn’t going to change a perfectly agreeable status quo. 

His dinner today is simple: an egg and cuts of seasoned chicken over a bowl of steamed rice and pickled vegetables from the night before. 

Eating with the television on is improper decorum, but as nobody was there to take offense, this arrangement simply became a matter of routinized efficiency. The news, he’s observed, is a source of resigned exasperation for the few people in his life. His uncle in particular had a fondness for immediately changing the channel to watch the Giants, while his aunt seemed to prefer not to watch television at all. 

Not Teru. Instead the news inspired in him a kind of cathartic disgust that all is exactly as it should not be. _But it will be better one day._

_“- senior was instrumental in leading investigators in the right direction, sources within the NPA say. Yagami Light has previously assisted the NPA on an insurance fraud case. Next, a small traffic accident in Shinjuku has caused a temporary shut down of two lanes of the motorway to be closed temporarily causing major delays -_

Spoonful of food suspended midway between mouth and bowl, Teru stares at the NHN announcer dubiously. He recalls that conversation with Light from last week and though he had no reason to suspect the boy had been lying, it’d seemed too good to be true. 

Now even the television is talking about Yagami Light. 

Technically nothing bad has happened, but all the same a strange unsettled feeling lodges in his stomach. A few weeks ago, this reminder of the boy’s existence when he’s in the privacy of his own home would have struck him as invasive. Now invasive doesn’t seem to be the right word for it. 

Teru resumes eating with a furrowed brow.Yagami Light hasn’t done anything wrong. 

_Yet._

It’s an irrational thought at best, but it’s not one that Teru can let go of easily. Keeping low expectations made disappointment palatable. Something to be expected. But the ‘yet’ that Teru had left room for in his unfinished mental analysis on the moral integrity of the boy never seems to materialize into a clause filled with citations and supporting evidence of his misdeeds. Even the prediction that this unusual friendliness on Light’s part would come to an unannounced end once Light patched things up with his _real_ friends - no, Teru isn’t bitter about this, of course not - doesn’t come to fruition.

With yesterday evening’s news still fresh in his mind, Teru decides for once to initiate conversation with Light. He’s curious now and if Light truly is a person worth knowing then he won’t regret having spent the effort. Seeing Light and Yamamoto laughing together in the corridor instantly changes his mind. 

_Ah. So we’re back to pretending we don’t know each other then._ It’s fine by him, even if the thought leaves a faintly acerbic aftertaste in his mouth when he looks at Yamamoto’s smiling face.

“Hey, Mikami-kun. Come sit with us at lunch today,” Light says as they cross paths. 

Teru’s face blanches white as he looks from Light to Yamamoto. He’d barely gotten acclimated to speaking to Light, dealing with his _friends_ on top of that? How absolutely unthinkable. 

Mercifully, Yamamoto seems to agree. 

“Eh?” He looks from Light to Teru with a puzzled expression like he’s only just seen Teru properly for the first time. Teru can’t say that the feeling isn’t mutual. 

Yamamoto recovers first. “Oh yeah, you should. Mikami-kun. You do look kind of lonely sitting by yourself.” Not that he’d had this thought before Light had pointed it out. In truth, he’d always thought Teru looked rather content seated alone with his face glued to the pages of a book.

“I’m not lonely.” Teru interjects, then winces in afterthought. That sounded utterly puerile on his part.

 _See?_ Yamamoto shoots Light a look. Light pointedly ignores it in a way that Teru only wishes he could. 

“I don’t mean to be rude, but…”

Light laughs. _You want me to yourself, huh?_ That’s so obviously not remotely whatever Teru is actually thinking that it winds up amusing him. There’s practically a list of girls who want to speak to him alone these days and his unpopularity with at least one person in the student body is beginning to seem like a vacation in contrast. 

“No pressure, Mikami-kun. It’s an open invitation if you ever feel like it.”

Though secretly relieved, Yamamoto nods in agreement. He supposes it only makes sense that the top students in the class would find each other’s company agreeable, but considering Mikami Teru notoriously had the disposition of a soggy parrot, he wasn’t seeing it. “Yeah, you’re welcome to join.”

Teru nods stiffly, knowing full well that he’ll never “feel like it.” Platitudes don’t mean anything to him. Before he can move on, Yamamoto smacks his palm against his forehead and curses softly. “I forgot there was a knitting club meeting today. Gotta run.”

Teru shoots Yamamoto’s retreating figure an incredulous look.

“Shinoda is the club president,” Light explains. _And Emi’s in it too for that matter._ He represses a sigh.

“So?” The unimpressed question slips out of Teru before he remembers how irrelevant this is. Not that the idea of people joining clubs for utterly superficial reasons is an alien one, but it’s certainly not a standard Teru would follow. 

“So now he’s learning how to make scarves.”

After a moment of silence, Teru decides not to comment that up until a few weeks ago it had seemed as though Light had shared similar priorities in pursuing relationships himself. However, as pointing this out was the equivalent of acknowledging that he’d been unwillingly absorbing information from the gossip vine, he decides to change topics entirely. 

“You were on the news last night.” he says instead. 

Light raises an eyebrow at the non sequitur. “Is that an accusation or…?”

“No, I..” Teru sighs, feeling drained already. “I meant I heard about the conclusion of the case you were assisting.” A pause. “Congratulations.” 

Light stares at the formality of it all, then bursts into soft laughter. 

“Ah. It’s only because my dad’s chief of the Criminal Investigations Bureau that they know me and know that I’m set on pursuing this as a career. I like following the cases my dad’s been working on. Plus it’s interesting and rewarding when you catch something the police don’t that leads to an arrest. It’s one less criminal that’s out on the streets waiting to victimize someone new.”

Teru listens intently, feeling the energy that Yamamoto had drained from him returning in full throttle. Concepts like allies belong to the simpler world of elementary school. It’s not a word that Teru has consciously applied to any individual in a long time - not since his last argument with Junko - but it’s beginning to seem almost dangerously applicable. 

“Yes, that’s very important and I’d like to do something like that to improve society as well.”

“Oh?” They’ve brushed this subject before, though Teru hadn’t volunteered any information about his own ambitions back then. “You want to be a detective, too?”

Teru shakes his head. “No, I’d like to be a prosecutor.” 

_Ah._ That would explain why he took academics so seriously. The career choice certainly appeared to suit Mikami well as fastidious as he is. 

“We both have a long way to go, huh.” Light smiles. “Everything is riding on those entrance exams. It’d be interesting if we ended up working together in the future.”

 _Interesting._ Teru mulls over that word longer than he should. There needs to be a word that’s a little warmer than “not unpleasant” but less amicable than “pleasant.” Yagami Light was beginning to occupy a middle ground as neither bystander nor an active blight upon humanity all to himself, and slowly over the course of many more conversations that became an acceptable status quo. 

By the time, the spring term ends and school is dismissed for the summer, Teru supposes he might appreciate it a little when Light wishes him a happy summer. He even manages a smile, the first one in a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! This is a late update and I apologize. Updates should come slightly more regularly in the future.  
> I didn't think this chapter required any notes to facilitate flow of reading as this was more dialogue focused this time around, but if there are any questions, please feel free to leave them in the comments.


End file.
